


A Pirate's Life for Free!

by fencer_x



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Blood Drinking, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, merman Rin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencer_x/pseuds/fencer_x
Summary: Nanase Haruka is captain of the pirate ship Rockhawk--and Rin is the newest member of his crew: a Siren they rescued from an enemy ship's hold and who is bound to Haruka until he is able to repay the life debt he owes. || Written for the Sports Anime Shipping Olympics Bonus Round 4 [Theme: Official Art]





	1. Chapter 1

Rin hissed softly, trying to jerk his arm away from Haruka’s grip and whining, “That _stings_.”

Haruka only tightened his fingers about Rin’s wrist, holding him firmly in place as he finished dabbing the shallow bite marks with a disinfectant salve—which was really mostly moonshine. “Maybe that will teach you not to dive when there are sharks around.”

Rin just shrugged. “They usually won’t bother me; they were just pups—I can’t really blame them for testing if I was tasty or not.” He grimaced as Haruka began to tightly bind his forearm. “And at least I managed to get the chest hooked onto our lines—now we can afford those repairs we’ve been putting off.”

Haruka used his teeth to rip the binding, sealing it in place with a wrapping of twine. “Stay out of the water until that heals; Captain’s orders.”

“I— _what_? Fuck no—it’s a couple of tiny little nips from some scavengers. I didn’t lose my tail or anything! You’re gonna have to wrap me in a net and toss me in the hold if you think I’m gonna miss my morning hunt because of _this_.” He waved his bandaged arm dramatically, but Haruka ignored his squawking protests, turning to put away the surgery kit.

Rin truly tried Haruka’s limited patience sometimes. He’d likely be difficult enough if he were a human member of the crew; that he was a Siren only exacerbated the irritation he could cause, as difficult to deal with some days as the stormy gales he liked to call down when they were in want of a breeze to fill out the sails.

It was nearly two years now that Rin had been traveling with the Rockhawk, a late addition and an altogether unexpected one. Tachibana, their Quartermaster, had been a close companion from the Academy and a truly skilled sailor—his appointment had been a foregone conclusion. Hazuki worked their cannon line like he’d been born in a bore and raised on saltpeter, and while their initial Sailing Master hadn’t quite worked out (how Yamazaki had managed to even navigate the sailing yard let alone the open seas would remain a mystery), Ryuugazaki was as capable as any—if a bit on the finicky side, forever lecturing the crew on their diet and hygiene with, “Scurvy and lice aren’t beautiful!” 

Rin, though, had been a rogue wave—one they’d never seen coming that turned their sailing lives upside down. 

Predictably, he’d been trouble from the very beginning: a seemingly helpless captive locked in the dark hold of an enemy vessel Haruka and his crew had commandeered. He’d been swaddled in netting, half-starved and barely conscious, and since common human decency wouldn’t let Haruka just abandon him to the tides while they made off with the bulk of the ship’s saleable cargo, he grudgingly ordered his men to see Rin safely aboard. 

Of course, at that time he hadn’t been ‘Rin’—he’d just been the pale, naked new mouth to feed that couldn’t even form coherent sentences for his first few days on their ship. When he’d finally gotten his strength back, he’d spent every waking moment trying to pitch himself overboard in what Haruka had initially feared to be some post-traumatic suicide attempt—until he’d finally succeeded one night while Haruka stood on watch. 

He’d nearly shattered the alarm bell, whacking it with all his might before diving down into the black ocean after their wayward charge. It was a calm evening, but the moon was only a sliver, and sea and sky blended together in a muddled dark mass that made it difficult to tell what was up and what was down, let alone pick out a drowning man.

Rin had found him first, spiraling around him in a lazy helix to guide him back to the surface—and even now, Haruka wondered why he hadn’t slipped a sinewy arm under Haruka’s then and there. If he’d done that, if he’d intervened and rescued him instead of helping Haruka save himself, then the contract would’ve been fulfilled, and so much grief might have been spared.

Instead, he’d just been _there_ —a beacon, tempting and beckoning Haruka to follow like the Siren he apparently was, and the pale, wan moonlight above had faintly illuminated gray tones and sharp angles and sandpaper rough hide that bit into the skin when Haruka ran a hand over it in awe.

Rin had been a prisoner on that ship—just not a human one; a lucky catch that his captors had been considering feasting on, in light of legends that purported a Siren’s flesh to bestow immortality on any who consumed it. In rescuing him, Haruka had unwittingly instated a life bond—a debt that had to be repaid in kind and until which time Rin could not leave his side. 

And so, Rin had joined their crew, a full-fledged working member until the day he was able to save Haruka’s life and finally be freed from the immaterial tether that held him sure and fast as any harpoon might. 

Joining the crew required a name, though, and when he had confessed that he had no name that human lips could shape, Haruka had dubbed him ‘Rin’, since its proximity to ‘siren’ made it easy to remember. If Rin had been offended at the lack of thought given to his new name, he hadn’t shown it, and he proved to be a hard worker, taking up odd jobs and eager to man the red-eye watches since he was more active in the evenings by nature. The long, sweeping blade of his tail faded to foam once he left the water, and he liked to doze after his hunts in a little dinghy sitting alongside the hull while he waited for the sun and sea breeze to give him legs again. 

The crew had taken to him quickly—particularly when he proved his worth by helping retrieve derelict cargo trapped on the ocean floor meters below the surface and far from their human reach. Treasures and booty that might have otherwise been lost, they could now claim for themselves to boost their haul numbers. Suddenly, there was no need to fuss over aim or be sure not to cripple a prey vessel to the point she started taking on water. If their target went down, Rin could help them hook lines to anything worth salvaging.

Haruka had taken a bit longer to come around, though; he wasn’t out here on the ocean for the glory or the treasure—he just wanted to feel the salt breeze on his face and the bright noonday sun in his eyes and the crash of spray across his skin. The larger the ship, the greater the exhilaration—he couldn’t get this on some puny fishing vessel; he needed something the size of the Rockhawk, along with the Crown’s approval to travel and explore. Rin’s skills with helping to fill their coffers mattered little to Haruka; he was after something altogether greater and more elusive, something he couldn’t even name himself.

“Ah,” Rin had nodded knowingly, tearing into the soft belly of his morning catch. “You need a dream. I can help with that.”

He’d then singlehandedly convinced Haruka to shrug off the bonds of privateering for the Royal Navy and instead break for wide open waters, to free himself and his crew to see sights they’d never seen before. Pirating wasn’t so very different from privateering, after all, and it meant traveling beyond country borders, with foreign winds filling his sails and a crew he trusted with his life supporting him the whole way.

Which brought them here, sitting at anchor off the coast of some island paradise that looked like no human had ever set foot on the pristine shores. The stars glinting above reflected off the white sands, and the moon was so fat and bright, its moonlight inviting, that Haruka struggled not to unhitch the dinghy they were occupying as they waited for the last little bit of Rin’s tail to slough away into foam and make for the shore to wade in the shallows and feel sand between his toes for the first time in months.

“You didn’t have to patch me up, you know.” Rin rolled his shoulder, fidgeting uncomfortably under the crumpled tarp that was maintaining his dignity until they could climb back aboard and find where he’d tossed his breeches. “I would have healed just fine without.” And of course Haruka knew this—had witnessed it himself several times, since Rin wasn’t one to have a care for his own safety and routinely got himself scraped up or bruised in the line of work—but it always seemed a shame to leave behind any scars or infection on that smooth, pale flesh. “Or were you just looking for a chance to feel me up?” Rin teased, voice low and rough, and his eyes took on that predatory glint that likely sent shoals scattering. 

Haruka was no skittish school of salmon, though, and he’d long since learned to read—and navigate—Rin’s hunting strategy. “As if I need an excuse; _you’re_ the one always throwing yourself at _me_.”

Rin sputtered in offense. “I am _not_!”

“Three nights ago, when everyone else took shore leave.”

Rin clammed up for a few long moments, crossing his arms angrily over his chest and then wincing when he remembered his bite. “…Well you’re such a cold fish; it’s like trying to mate with a fucking sea turtle.”

Haruka raised a brow. “You know this from experience?”

“It’s a figure of speech! Ah—” He inhaled sharply as the last vestiges of his Siren self melted away, finally freeing him to stretch his long, muscled human legs. “Finally; I was getting tired of sitting down here.”

He swiveled around on his bench, groping for the rope ladder, but before he could begin to haul himself back up, Haruka stopped him with a hand on his arm, tugging gently. “Stay for a while longer.”

“Huh? Why? I’m gonna freeze down here if I don’t get my breeches on; these legs have no blubber!” When Haruka just tightened his grip insistently, he quickly calmed and added, “…Unless you can find some other way to warm me up?” He shifted closer, threatening to unbalance the dinghy. “Did you take issue with that ‘cold fish’ comment and want to prove me otherwise? I’m not an unreasonable Siren; I’m open to persuasion. You will, of course, have to be _very_ convincing though…” He draped himself bodily over Haruka, and for all his protests about being chilly, his bulk burned and seared where their flesh touched.

Haruka shrugged him off, abruptly regretting his impulsive actions and grabbing for the rope ladder himself. “Never mind; you’re right, we should get you into some proper clothes.”

“ _What?_ ” He reached for a handful of Haruka’s shirt. “You just asked me to stay a while longer!”

“We’ve stayed longer, technically—” Rin’s confused frown only deepened into an irritated scowl. It was somehow still quite becoming on him, though, and Haruka supposed that just showed how powerful a Siren’s charms could be. “Rei’s calculated a course for us to take advantage of the morning gales coming at sunrise; we’ll need all hands on deck, so there’s no time for…”

“Bullshit; we could go three rounds at the rate _you_ usually finish and still get a good night’s rest,” Rin snorted derisively, but the edge was fading from his tone. “…I saw that route Ryuugazaki’s plotting for you.”

“And?”

“And it’s dangerous; there’s underwater peaks that nearly brush the surface—you’ll never see them, and they’ll tear the ship apart. Plus the current’s strong—probably stronger than these winds Ryuugazaki’s relying on. We’ll be off course in the blink of an eye and probably stranded for it.”

“We’ll manage. I have faith in my crew.”

“Not even Sirens go there—for good reason! Take the long way around, instead of risking the lives of you and your crew. It’s too dangerous.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Because you keep insisting we take these routes we’re better off avoiding! Your crew won’t stand for it much longer.”

“They won’t have to,” was his soft, oblique response, and he could feel Rin’s ire rising—finally releasing in a snapped huff.

“…I know what you’re doing, you know.”

“Hm.” That would make one of them. 

Rin leaned forward, one arm braced on either side of the dinghy, to fill Haruka’s vision. “You can’t force me to fulfill the contract.”

“Can’t I?”

Rin grit his teeth. “ _Don’t_ force me to, then!”

Ultimately, of course, Rin couldn’t stop him. He couldn’t stop Haruka from sailing headlong into danger, from placing himself in harm’s way and forcing Rin to either save him or let him die—and they’d worked themselves too firmly under each other’s skin to let the latter happen. They were like strands of kelp entangled in one another now, unable to wriggle free under their own power. Haruka’s harpoon was lodged deep within Rin, and he needed to just yank it out—the wound would bleed, and it would hurt like hell, but at least Rin could leave then if he wanted. At least they’d finally _know_ if he wanted to leave.

He’d tried asking Rin about it once, and—shamefully—Rin had been forced to admit he didn’t really understand it all that well himself. What had started out eons ago as a mere display of pride and honor had evolved into an innate compulsion to repay a debt accrued. It was a physical yearning, a drive no Siren could resist: like for like, bound and bonded until the contract was complete. Until he finally saved Haruka’s life in recompense for Haruka saving his, he could not be freed—no, did not even _want_ to be free. 

“It’s kind of like imprinting, I guess—I don’t know you, I don’t know who you are, I just know that…I need to be with you, I need to protect you. Once I’ve done that, then maybe I’ll feel different. Maybe all of the things I found kind of charming or amusing will seem annoying or downright piss me off. I find that hard to believe—but it’s been known to happen.” He’d grinned self-deprecatingly at that. “I can’t really imagine you irritating me any more than you already do, though, so maybe it won’t work out like that for us?”

Knowing that, knowing that Rin himself wasn’t even really _sure_ of how he felt should have given him pause, should have kept him cloistered in his captain’s quarters, far away from the strange creature unwillingly bound to him. But instead, he’d sought Rin’s counsel on routes Rei was considering, had joined him on dusk and dawn hunts when the seas were flat and calm and clear, had welcomed him eagerly—he took offense at that ‘cold fish’ remark—when he ought to have firmly turned Rin down. He’d made inappropriate, immoral choices every step of the way—and he’d _enjoyed_ it. 

Rin was like a brisk sea spray crashing against the bow as Haruka’s ship cut through, pushing against him and making the eventual journey all the sweeter for the trouble he’d endured. Rin’s presence was trying—but it was educational as well, opening Haruka’s eyes and mind to new horizons yet to explore. Without Rin, he would have been content sailing up and down the coast for the rest of his career, gazing out at the distant line between sea and sky but never racing to touch it. Rin pushed him to reach further, farther, and to reset his goals once he’d met them. 

Was it any surprise he was terrified of it ending? Of realizing that, without this life debt hanging over their heads like a swinging double-edged pendulum, it had never been real to begin with?

Ending it was all he had left; he couldn’t indulge like a child any longer—he needed to free Rin and dig out this infection by the root. He’d seen enough sights; he didn’t need to be shown any more. He would have to find them on his own; relying on Rin—on a creature who didn’t even know if he wanted to be here in the first place—was no longer an option. As the one person between the both of them who could think without clouded judgment, it was his responsibility to do the right thing. Rin was a free spirit; he needed to be free in body as well.

He hauled himself up, bracing one foot against the rope rung. “We make sail at dawn; get some rest while you can—we’ll need you in the water spotting.”

“You’re _scared_.” Haruka paused, fists white-knuckled where they clenched the ladder. “You’re scared that when this is over, I’m gonna turn tail and swim away. So you want to hurry up and get it over with while you’ve still got whatever passes for a heart in that chest of yours intact. I’m right, aren’t I?”

After a long, tense silence, Haruka began to climb again, and Rin grabbed one leg and jerked him down hard, bringing him clattering back down into the dinghy, which rocked dangerously beneath their weights. Rin then sank to his knees, straddling Haruka—and by this point, the tarp was really sparing nothing—and grabbed him by the lapels. “Well _too bad_. Because that’s what life is—a constant cycle of fear and anxiety and worry, with the odd moment of comfort in between. I’ve given you _two years_ of comfort now, two years of my life never knowing if what I feel is _really_ what I feel or just some part of my biology telling me I feel that way to convince me to keep trying to save your ass. You hate not knowing if I really love you? _Try being me_. Try not even knowing it _yourself_. So go on—chart whatever course you feel like. You’re gonna get knocked overboard or sucked through an eddy into a sink pool or run down by a shark three body lengths from safety—and I’m gonna save your life, just like you want.” He then shoved Haruka away roughly, pulling back and readjusting the tarp around his midsection as he stood with one hand gripping the ladder. “But that’s not where it ends. I don’t know what lies on the other side of that moment—but if it turns out that none of this mattered, that I still want to leave…then you’ll just have to grow a pair and come after me. Chase me to the ends of the earth and back until you wear me down and pull me back in.”

Haruka grimaced—even after Rin had won his freedom, he still wanted to be bound again? That made no sense. No sense at all.

“I know you hate effort,” Rin added with a softer tone, a bit of humor edging his voice. “And it may be a hell of an effort—but if you don’t want me to leave so bad…then just don’t let me go. You’re a pirate, aren’t you? You take what you want, and you don’t accept defeat. Unless I’m worth less to you than a handful of doubloons?”

The dinghy rocked uncertainly, sitting higher on the water as Rin climbed up the ladder. Haruka didn’t try to stop him this time—but just before Rin disappeared over the ship’s railing after scaling the side, he stood, bracing one arm against the hull for balance, and called up, “…Then you’d better swim fast.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel of sorts to _A Pirate's Life for Free_ , based on the official pirate crew art for RinHaru Week 2015, Day 5 | The bond breaks, and Haruka does as he's told, chasing after Rin until he gets what he wants, as any good pirate captain ought to do. Part 1 (previous chapter) must be read in order to enjoy this sequel.

It was second watch, and Captain Nanase Haruka could not sleep.

Perhaps it was the unusually calm waters, the placid ocean’s surface entirely absent the comfortable dips swells that typically sent him nodding off; perhaps it was the moon, sitting fat and bright low enough on the horizon that it streamed directly into his cabin, damning the fishnet-thin curtains and lighting the room up bright as mid-day. 

Or perhaps it was because there was a whalebone knife braced at his throat, the raw edge keen enough to slice through a lobster shell like butter, as its wielder straddled him and flashed teeth just as wicked in threat.

Haruka held still and silent, keeping his breathing shallow and fighting against swallowing. Rin’s aim had ever been on its mark, and the tension coiling visibly in his muscles announced he was on a hair trigger, likely to just slash a smile in Haruka’s throat before he realized what he’d done. How had he slipped inside? Who was on watch tonight—or rather, who was _neglecting_ his watch? It wasn’t that he terribly minded Rin being here, in Haruka’s bed, straddling him without a stitch on, but the knife he could do without.

Rin was crouched over him, nearly bent in half, and his eyes were luminescent little pearls in the shadows cast by the moon, bracketed by seaweed-like strands of red hair and fixed squarely on Haruka’s face. He’d always had an intense stare—focused and sharp and hungry, like the very beasts of the deep he seemed evolved from. He wore a man’s form right now, but no one in his right mind would mistake Rin for _human_ —not when he found himself pinned down by those eyes and trapped under that lithe, liquid body that seemed to float and flow even on board a ship. You could take Rin out of the ocean, but you couldn’t take the ocean out of him. 

Wondering, for an odd moment, if Rin was even aware of what he was doing, or if he’d perhaps reverted to some primal Siren instinct that bid him seek out sailors and drag them from their beds into the depths, Haruka at last chanced speech, murmuring soft and dark so as not to startle, “Found you…”

Something caught in Rin’s chest, and he snapped a hand out, grabbing Haruka by the amulet at his neck—a pale pink petal trapped in resin, a souvenir from a restocking stop on a southern isle of the eastern shores—to jerk him forward and bring their eyes level. With a flick of his wrist, he changed the angle of his knife so the flat of the blade was crushing Haruka’s windpipe, then pressed meaningfully. “Shut up. _Shut. Up._ ”

Haruka swallowed reflexively—but couldn’t keep it down, blocked by the blade’s pressure, and he winced, gasping. Rin’s eyes had a rather crazy glint to them, and his very skin seemed to vibrate with a manic energy as he leaned on the blade, fingers white-knuckled about the hilt as his features screwed to flash every emotion on the spectrum—joy, despair, fury, panic, and everything in between. He’d always been a slave to emotion, too human by far in that respect to ever be a proper Siren, as the crew had often chided with some amusement. Rin had countered that humans had no sovereign claim to emotion, that even base animals felt fear and hunger and comfort, if the finer emotions were beyond their ken. Haruka had silently agreed with his crew, but he’d never deemed it anything to fault. Rin wouldn’t be _Rin_ if he didn’t walk the hairline-fine line between emotionally stunted and a melodramatic mess.

Now, though, he seemed too _full_ , so stuffed with expression and a need to be heard and understood that he could barely contain it. He closed his eyes, perhaps hoping to will it all back into its bottle and bury it deep, and Haruka stole his chance to brush fingertips light as sea foam over the twitching, tight abdominal muscles laid bare to him as Rin straddled him. Rin instantly jerked back like he’d been stung by a jellyfish, and the whalebone knife went flying—burying itself with a twanging _thud_ in the leg of Haruka’s Captain’s desk.

They both froze in place, staring at the knife in horror and confusion—Rin, because he’d lost his trump card, and Haruka, because of all the reactions he might have expected from Rin, recoiling in disgust had not been one of them. Rin cursed under his breath in a hissing, sibilant language Haruka couldn’t understand but was sure was quite colorful, because Rin never held any punches, and Haruka reached for him again—but this time, his wrist was caught in a grip far stronger than expected, the delicate bones straining painfully in Rin’s grasp as he forced the arm back down onto the bed, securing the other with his free hand and bracing a knee on Haruka’s chest.

“Touch me again, and I swear to all that you hold holy, I’ll rip your arms off.”

The threat might have held more water if it had been delivered with one of Rin’s smarmy grins, or if his voice hadn’t trembled like a harp string, betraying the bone-deep fear driving him just now. This wasn’t a predator, stalking his prey at night and slipping into Haruka’s bed undetected to slit his throat for imagined (or perhaps authentic) slights; this was a scared, nervous prey creature, something soft and vulnerable and ready to _fight_ , since Haruka had for the past six months time and time again denied him _flight_.

The contract had broken under the wan morning light of pre-dawn, the _Rockhawk_ riding low with her hold packed full to bursting with goods salvaged from a mercantile ship that had run afoul of a typhoon and been crushed against the spearlike spikes of an underwater mountain range. Haruka had been knocked from the rigging after climbing up to secure a sail lashing freely in the dregs of the same typhoon that had won them their haul and might have been pulled under, never to surface again, had Rin not dived in after him to drag him back to safety. He’d cursed in three languages, loud and rancorous in Haruka’s ear as he lay listless and distant in Rin’s arms. It was only once he’d been tossed into one of the longboats lowered to help him back onto the ship that Haruka had seen it—the clear shift of _something_ in Rin’s eyes, in his expression, in the softening of his grip on Haruka’s arm that showed he no longer felt biologically beholden. That a life bond had been repaid in kind, pride or magic or something altogether undefinable finally satisfied—that Rin was _free_.

He’d then promptly tipped backward and thrown himself from the longboat as it was hauled back up to the deck without so much as a farewell glance, slipping over the side and crashing into the choppy surface, gone before anyone could think to act.

Six months. Six months of hailing every passing ship begging word of any Siren sightings; six months of making port whenever possible angling for gossip on mysterious sea creatures haunting shorelines and tempting travelers off-course. Six months of manning every pre-dawn watch himself because he knew that was when Rin was the most active—and somehow, even without that long, lean body warming his bed, he still wasn’t getting any sleep.

The heavy brass markers decorating his atlas table no longer mapped vulnerable trade routes or ports populated with shops that neglected to delve too deeply into the provenance of goods for sale—now they showed the twining, curling line of Rin’s movements. Every time he poked his head up at surface, every glimpse of a sleek flash of red from a crow’s nest, every man who swore up and down he’d nearly speared a man thinking he had his harpoon shooting for snapper was recorded in excruciating detail and marked for later reference.

The moon passed behind a string of clouds, and the cabin fell into soft shadow, Rin’s eyes still glowing like pale, dying embers as his features screwed up, having finally settled on an emotion: desperation. “ _Stop_.”

The knife was still buried in the leg of Haruka’s desk, too far away to reach, and he doubted Rin had any other weapons hidden on his person, so he finally chanced speech again: “Stop what?”

“Don’t fucking play dumb, you little shit—you _know_ what.” Rin’s way with words had ensured he fit right in with any sailing crew, and Haruka wondered not for the first time where he’d learned human speech. He certainly hadn’t been lingering under the docks of the gentry’s private seaside villas, that was for sure. The pricking tips of Rin’s claws dug into the sensitive flesh of Haruka’s wrists, and he leaned in close, voice dropping to a purring threat and warm breath hot across the lips. “ _Stop. Following me._ ”

He punctuated the ultimatum by adding pressure to the knee on Haruka’s chest, causing him to gasp in discomfort, and his eyes began to water with pain. Perhaps taunting wasn’t the wisest action when Rin hardly needed a knife to gut a man from stem to stern. He inhaled sharply when Rin eased back to let him breathe, and the salty night air flushed into his lungs, carrying with it the sharp, familiar scent of Siren, animal and wild and fresh where one might have expected a fishy stench. Rin had always smelled good—like open water and wide horizons and everything Haruka found new and exciting and thrilling, because that’s what Rin _was_. An adventure you couldn’t help wanting to chase.

How could he possibly expect Haruka to give it up now? 

“C—an’t,” he hissed, swallowing back the rasp in his voice; if he had bruises on his throat come morning, there would be words.

“Sure you can, _Haru_ —let me make it real simple for you: turn your damn boat around and leave me the fuck alone.”

Abruptly jerking his arms back to lift up onto his elbows and sending Rin scrambling back to avoid knocking noses, Haruka stared ahead, stony-faced and unmoved. “As I said: I can’t.”

Rin finally released his grip on Haruka’s wrists and shook a nasty hooked claw in his face. “I’m only asking _nicely_ just this once—if you don’t get your shit together and make for waters I’m _not_ hunting, then I’ll call down a maelstrom and drown you so deep your grandchildren will have gills.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Haruka scoffed with a frown. “How could I have grandchildren if I’m dead? I’ve never even—”

Rin grabbed his jaw in an iron grip, claws forming a line of pinpricks down his cheek, and gave a hard shake. “Don’t get smart with me. My good will only stretches so far.”

“First you say don’t play dumb, now you tell me don’t get smart—which will it be?” he ground out coolly, and he could see the way his flippant responses were beginning to rankle Rin; good. A frightened creature fending for its life was impossible to reason with; an irritated Siren prone to dramatic emotional displays, though, could be dealt with much more easily. 

Rin’s upper lip curled in a way Haruka was certain he’d learned from human sailors, and he drew his hand away to deliver a sharp backhand—but Haruka was quite through being tossed around as Rin pleased, and he stalled the blow with a firm grip on the wrist, holding Rin in place despite his squirming. “I said—don’t fucking _touch_ m—”

“I _can’t_ let you go, because you made me swear _not_ to.”

Rin thrashed violently, wrenching his arm from Haruka’s grip, and settled back to rub it ruefully as he kept a wary eye pinned on Haruka beneath him. “That’s bullshit. You know damn well I said that under _duress_. I was under contract— _bound_ to you, and all but forced to ask that kind of thing. Holding me to an oath made under contract is just—”

“ _No_ ,” Haruka cut in, shifting upright and sending Rin scrambling back, a haunted, hunted fear in his eyes that proved the prey animal had not yet gone to ground—it was still there, waiting and worrying that the worst was nigh. Haruka closed his eyes, cursing softly to himself, and took a moment to collect the thoughts that had been swirling through his head for months now. He’d relived that conversation every night, in excruciating detail, with Rin’s words ringing loudly enough in his ears to drown out the sound of the wind and waves and Haruka’s own better angels. He could recite it all from memory, remember every emotion that had flashed over Rin’s features—the anger, the frustration, but also the cocky grin, the hopeful confidence. “No,” he continued, shaking his head, and his jaw ached from clenching. “You were only obligated to never let _me_ go.”

“Shut up,” Rin muttered, voice tremulous, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “I—told you to—”

“Wanting me to never let _you_ go…” Haruka continued, ignoring his pleas, “…was all you.”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Rin barked, and the frightened animal within finally lashed out with tooth and claw, raking a series of superficial gashes over Haruka’s forearm as he shoved away—and then Rin was on him again, slamming him back down onto the hard mattress and knee frighteningly close to crushing some sensitive bits. “I was—under contract, and—”

Haruka winced, the raked lines across his arm burning. “You can’t blame the contract for this; I’ve done my research, Rin—I probably know more about it than you now.” He wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t; he wasn’t going to put his crew at risk, chasing a wayward Siren across half the world, on a hope and a prayer. He’d stalked shipyards and dockside pubs up and down the eastern seaboard and offered drinks to any he could find with tales to tell of Sirens and their contracts—because Rin was right. He _couldn’t_ trust anything spoken between them, no sweet nothings, no feeble promises…until he knew what was Rin, and what was the _Siren_. “It doesn’t make you smile, it doesn’t make you laugh. It doesn’t make you fall in lo—”

Rin wound up again, ready to deliver another fury-laden slash, but Haruka grabbed his wrist, gave a twisting yank, and quickly slipped out from underneath Rin, a lifted leg all he needed to nudge Rin over onto his side and then flat onto his back—their positions neatly switched. He huffed in relief; those nasty swipes were getting bothersome, and he’d always preferred this position anyway.

Rin’s eyes goggled, the wind knocked out of him, and he squirmed in place, trying to work himself free, but Haruka had a steady grip on his wrists. Rin was bigger and broader but unused to fighting out of water, and Haruka found little challenge in keeping him down. “Let me—go—”

“I told you—I can’t.”

“I’ll rip your throat out—tear your fucking head off—”

“If you were going to do that, you would’ve already.”

“Let me _go!_ Just—leave me alone! You stole two years of my life already, let me _be_!”

Haruka frowned. “…You _gave_ me two years. I recall no less than five occasions where you might have completed the contract and parted ways.”

“It doesn’t work like that! I _had_ to—it’s not like—” He threw his head back, grunting in rage. “Why do you have to be so— _you_?!”

“I’ve always been me; whether given or stolen, we at least seem to agree that you spent two years in my presence, so you must recognize me by now.”

Finally, that wary, terrified glint disappeared from Rin’s eye, replaced instead by a sharp glare and cheeks flushed dark in frustrated rage. “I fucking hate you.”

“…Maybe now, but you loved me, before.”

Rin’s voice was high and terrible, a scoffing bark of laughter. “That’s rich!” He sneered, flashing pearl-white teeth that caught the moon’s rays, almost blinding. “I screwed you—but trust a human to muse that it meant something beyond the moment.” When Haruka failed to react to the jeering—though admittedly not without great effort; Rin knew exactly where to press to hurt—Rin grabbed at his amulet again, tugging down to draw him close, and when he spoke again, it was a breathy whisper, “You make me sick. A hundred transformations and I still feel _filthy_.” He released his grip with a defeated laugh, cocking his head to stare out the window, mesmerized by the moon.

Haruka stared down at him, unmoved. “…I hate effort. Chasing you is annoying, it cuts into our profits, and we waste resources and risk our lives sailing into waters most would steer clear of.” Between them, the amulet swayed like a hypnotist’s charm, the resin scattering rays of moonlight. “I wouldn’t do that just to satisfy some ridiculous romantic fantasy.”

Rin pursed his lips, keeping his gaze fixed on the distant horizon far beyond the fluttering fishnet curtains. “And yet here we are.”

“You _loved_ me.” Rin’s jaw clenched, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “You loved me, Rin—”

His eyes flashed in warning, and he finally glanced up at Haruka again, chest heaving. “No matter how many times you say it, it doesn’t make it true.” 

“A lesson we could both stand to learn.” When Rin scoffed and glanced away again, Haruka pressed, “I’m not going to stop. Kill me if you like; undo your two years of hard work—”

“Don’t pretend like I _wanted_ any of this!”

“I’m _not_.” He kept his tone even, eyes boring into Rin’s and drawing his gaze back like a fish on the line, and Rin couldn’t look away now without rending himself in half, leaving precious bits of himself on the hook. “I’m not blind, I’m not stupid—and I don’t subject my crew to fools’ errands. You loved me, and no matter how many times you say you didn’t, it doesn’t make it true.” He splayed a hand, palm flat and fingers stretched wide, over Rin’s chest, feeling the steady, insistent tattoo of a powerful heartbeat thudding just below. “You loved me—and you didn’t _just_ love me.” The heartbeat quickened, a double beat racing forward on the heels of a wave of anxiety and animal rage. “You wanted me to _love you back_.”

“Of _course_ I did!” Rin roared, shoving Haruka backward with unexpected force that knocked him from his perch and left him breathless for a few beats. He staggered back from the mattress, collapsing onto the floor and blinking stupidly up at Rin who rose in one smooth motion, the grace in his limbs contrasting starkly with the ugly defeat etched onto his features. “I did—and it fucking kills me!” He sank to his knees and snatched the amulet from Haruka’s neck, casting it viciously aside with a snarled, “It’s _humiliating_!”

Rin was power and fury and still beautiful, like a hurricane viewed from afar—threads of lightning cracking the sky, or a rogue wave looming off the bow. Imminent destruction, all the more glorious for its inevitability. _Rin_ was inevitable—inescapable. He begged Haruka to leave him be, to stop chasing him, but he wasn’t being contrary when he protested that he _couldn’t_. If Rin had a harpoon through his gut, then Haruka had a foot tangled in his line. They were both equally doomed.

“It wasn’t _real_ ,” Rin choked out, slumping forward on hands and knees, with his shaggy shock of seaweed-red hair curtaining his face. His shoulders hunched as he shook his head feebly, muttering to himself. “It wasn’t _real_ , and it’s over; I’m supposed to be free now—but I’m still stuck feeling like you’re my world, like I’m never full enough, never complete, never going to be _whole_ again.” He rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning, “I don’t _want_ to want you!”

A tight pain lanced through his chest, like icy fingers wrapping around his heart and squeezing—and Haruka stretched out a hand, brushing fingers over Rin’s arm, but was once again rebuffed violently. He grimaced, closing his eyes and tamping down any snarled response, before sniping, “Do I look like I’m enjoying this myself?” Rin frowned, but a flicker of confusion betrayed his concern, and Haruka pressed, “…I’m not being an asshole when I say _I can’t_.” He shook his head, regret setting his features into a grimace. “…I can’t let you go.” He closed his eyes and let his head thump back against the rough woodgrain of the planks beneath him, willing his breathing to even. Rin could wear him out with only a glance; just being in his presence was _exhausting_ as much as exhilarating.

It was quiet, all around—no soft rustle of waves lapping against the hull, no faint burbling cry of gulls blown off course seeking refuge atop their mizzenmast until they pulled into port again. Just dark and silence and the still striking scent of Rin beating back the stale cabin air and salty rank of life at sea. 

Atop him, Rin sighed weakly, a whimper barely suppressed, and something heavy settled against Haruka’s shoulder. He opened his eyes, just a hair, to see that Rin had all but collapsed on him, face buried against his chest. His back shook, shuddering with little vibrations that one might have mistaken for bitten-back sobs. “…What do we do, Haru…?” he muttered, desperation thick in his tone and voice nearly breaking with emotion. “I just want to be free… I just want to… Why can’t I be free…?”

It wasn’t fair, Haruka agreed: every cage, no matter how beautiful the gilding or comfortable the bedding, was still just that: a prison. For Rin to have finally had his leash snipped, his chain broken, and yet still feel bound in some way to Haruka…it was just cruel. If any creature deserved the joys of unfettered freedom, surely it was Rin. But what one deserved and what one had to accept were not necessarily the same thing. “…Because we aren’t made that way, I guess.”

“Bullshit,” Rin spit, pulling back and grimacing as if he’d swallowed rotten chum. “I was doing just fine before you came along.” This seemed to decide him, for he collected himself and twisted his grimace into a proper pout. “This is all your fault.”

Haruka felt irritation flare in his chest, and just as it had been a welcome distraction on Rin, so too was it almost _comforting_ in himself—this was familiar, bickering back and forth. He’d missed it, in a way; no one else challenged him on the ship. Makoto was ever indulgent, Nagisa rode his moods like a fey thing and seemed to enjoy even his darkest moments, and Rei would just remind him that frowning would give him wrinkles which weren’t beautiful at all, and perhaps he should get some fresh air up on the main deck. “…I was living quite comfortably before having to take you in as well, you know.”

“No you weren’t.” Rin wrinkled his nose in disgust, brows cinching. “You were aimless; no direction at all. I don’t see how you could even call it _living_. What’s the point, when there _is_ no point?” They’d had this discussion before, Haruka was sure—and Rin had been right then, just as he was right now. Even if it _hurt_ this much, even if it was this annoying, he’d rather be out here, scouring the seven seas for even a glimpse of Rin again than go back to the doldrum life he’d been trudging through before. He had a purpose of sorts now, and that made all the difference.

“…I guess I should thank you, then.”

The old Rin, from before, would have crowed _You’re damn right you should!_ and it sent a lance of pain through his chest when Rin just frowned with pinched lips, breath catching, as he ground out with steely calm, “So thank me—by leaving me alone.”

How many ways could he say _I can’t_ before Rin grasped that it wasn’t a conscious choice—that Rin couldn’t leave him before, and Haruka couldn’t leave him now? That everywhere they’d touched, every oath they’d traded, had lodged a barbed little hook in Haruka’s flesh, and when Rin ran, he dragged Haruka body and soul behind him? “…Don’t you think I would have by now, if I could?”

Rin slammed a fist into the aged wood planking beside Haruka’s head. “Then what the _fuck_ are we supposed to do?! I can’t live like this, I can’t…” He shook his head when words failed him, clenching his eyes shut, and Haruka could feel his own eyes heating with unshed tears of frustration. It built inside, curling in his chest and lying heavy over his heart as a cannonball, pressing down and robbing him of breath. _Trapped_. It wasn’t a matter of giving in—it was _pride_ and _independence_ , casting aside _self_ to be part of a whole. Haruka didn’t know if he could do that, and he surely couldn’t ask that of another.

Still…this was the most alive he’d felt in months, and pitiful as it felt, he wanted more. He knew it couldn’t be for the best, as surely as he knew that drinking salt water would only make his thirst more powerful. But the alternative was worse. 

He slowly brought his hands up, fearful Rin would lash out again and this time he’d lose a finger, and eased his grip around Rin’s wrists, rubbing at the patch of skin just under the palm. Rin didn’t flinch away or snap a vicious protest, at least, and encouraged, Haruka prodded, “…But maybe if we stay together…it’ll be a kind of freedom.”

Rin frowned down at their hands, blinking silently as he processed the suggestion, but seemed unmoved. “That’s—no. Freedom is freedom. There’s no shades about it. You’re either free or you’re not, bound or you’re not.” He tugged his hands loose, but not nearly as violently or with unmitigated disgust as before. “And I’m _supposed_ to be free, whole and full, but it still feels like I’m stuck with you—except this time, I’m awake and conscious and it’s fucking _terrifying_ , like I’m all knotted up in a net, struggling to escape, and drowning a head’s distance from the surface.” He shuddered visibly, rubbing his arms, and closed his eyes again, as if just _looking_ at Haruka was enough to trigger an episode. “I don’t want to feel like I’m not all here, like this body isn’t all _mine_. I don’t want to feel like there’s something important I’m meant to remember but _can’t_. I don’t want to feel like every league I put between us is just that: a whole _league_ between us. I don’t want a _kind_ of freedom, Haru—I just _want it_ , pure and simple.”

And Haruka could sympathize, of course—because it was the same for him. Maybe they’d done this to themselves; maybe these life bonds weren’t meant to last this long. Maybe by dragging things out, they’d made the parting _worse_. Every sailor he’d talked to, in their months apart, had spoken of a few days, at most a few weeks lapsing until an unfortunate accident was averted only by the intervention of their Siren partner. One man, stories went, had kept his contract intact for nearly nine months by returning to shore and convincing the Siren to join him, but the poor creature had caught palm fever and passed before she could be returned to the sea. No one ever talked about what happened to the man after the Siren had died, and Haruka hadn’t had any desire to find out. Living separate lives was proving difficult enough; the idea of one of them dying well before the other was just…

But how could Rin possibly tolerate this? They would wind up killing each other if this kept up—one of them eventually giving in and deciding that if neither could ever be free, perhaps there was no point in trying any longer. There were no happy endings—not the kind Rin wanted, at least. There was only acceptance, compliance, and imagined release.

Rin had given him something Haruka hadn’t known he couldn’t live without: purpose, drive, ambition. Or perhaps he’d had it all along, and Rin had merely woken it.

It had been a gift beyond measure, and now it was Haruka’s chance to return the favor. Whether Rin welcomed it or not.

“When you leave this cabin—when you walk out onto that deck and dive from the rails back into the deep…you’ll lose those legs. You’ll be forced into another form, your organs twisted and mutated to adapt. You won’t be human any longer.”

Rin eyed him warily for a moment, brows twitching in confusion, before he reminded with thinly veiled derision, “I’ve _never_ been human, Haru. It’s absurd to think about shifting back as _losing_ something.”

_Semantics_ , Haruka muttered to himself, though Rin had always taken great pains to make the differentiation. “But you still have no control over it—no Siren does, right? You can’t keep your legs once you’re in the water, and your tail sloughs away as soon as you’re dry. You’re confined to one form in the water, and another out.” He shifted up onto his elbows, bringing their faces just a hair closer, and held Rin’s gaze tight as a line with a marlin hooked on the end. “Does it make you feel trapped?”

“Of course not,” Rin scoffed. “It’s my body—it’s just natural. It’s always been like this, and…” He frowned at his own words. “…There’s nothing I can do to change it.”

Haruka fought against nodding, letting Rin draw his conclusions himself instead of leading him like a horse to water. “And I have to breathe air to survive. It can be annoying, even inconvenient—but it’s just part of living. I don’t feel _trapped_ , though by all rights I ought to. I just _need it_.” He let his gaze fall, vision going distant. “If you told me to stop breathing—my response would be the same: I _can’t_. I can try, maybe even succeed, for a time. But you can’t ask me to do something I _can’t_ and expect it to solve your own problems.”

He didn’t have to be looking at Rin to tell he was warring with himself, all that anger and rage pooling impotent in his chest now that it could no longer be fixed on Haruka. If he left it there, if it began to fester, it would rot him from the inside out, and there’d be no calling him back. Then they’d be in worse shape than they were now, which was saying something. He slowly, slow enough to keep from bumping noses with Rin or startling him too badly, shifted upright again, drawing his legs to himself and holding a hand out, in invitation. He then let his eyes travel, lazy and unswerving, up and over the soft, ghostly pale flesh of Rin’s human form—all knobby knees and wicked claws and sharp elbows and curving frown that was almost _pouting_ now. He was crouching before Haruka, nearly pulled into a ball, and looking very unhappy with the course of their conversation—though his frown was born more of confusion and distress than rage and terror as before.

Rin eyed the outstretched hand with suspicion, shoulder turned just to the side, as if to brace against any onslaught that hand might bring to bear. “…You wanna lose that hand?” he muttered, but the force behind the threat was fading fast, so Haruka let his hand drop down to grab Rin’s when he refused to offer it himself.

“You can’t keep your legs in the water. You can’t ask me to stop breathing. _Living_ in and of itself is a cage, penning us in and keeping us leashed. Placing limits on us. The only difference is we’ve long since accepted those limits, and so they no longer chafe.” He angled his wrist, turning until their palms brushed and he could slip his fingers between Rin’s, squeezing weakly. “Why can’t this be the same?”

Rin stared, for an almost uncomfortably long while, at their twined fingers. The curve of his back was silvered in the moonlight, making him seem even paler than he was—and what if he refused? What if the animal in him couldn’t bear a collar, no matter how loose, and lashed out with all the rage he could summon? What if there really was no such thing as a _kind of_ freedom, and Rin just saw the answer more clearly?

“How can you be sure?” Haruka blinked, realizing only now that Rin was staring at him and not their hands, and Rin punctuated his question with a faint, tight-lipped squeeze of his fingers. “How do you know it has to be this way? How do you know it’s _right_? Maybe—” He shook his head. “Maybe you’re just like—opium, or hookah weed. Maybe I’m just _addicted_ to you…” He narrowed his eyes with a concerned frown to himself. “Maybe giving in is the last thing I’m supposed to do…”

“…Maybe,” Haruka offered evenly, because how were they to know? This was well beyond either of their understandings, and maybe this was all nothing more than lingering effects of the bond that, with time and distance, would blessedly fade. 

Admittedly, Haruka really didn’t care. Because in six months, never had he felt so _complete_ as he did now—Rin was a gulping inhalation of fresh, crisp air after nearly drowning, a burst of sweet flavor after starving. Just another thing he couldn’t live without and would rightly never _want_ to. Rin deserved the same relief, if not release.

“But…for me, I’d rather live a half-life under your thrall than a whole one wondering if it really counts as freedom when the one thing I _chose_ , freely, was the one thing I couldn’t have.” He tugged Rin closer, then ran his arms up and over sinewy biceps and corded shoulders, cradling Rin’s neck to force their gazes to lock. “You’ll never know what the right choice is—so choose the one that makes you _feel_ free.” He flexed, drawing Rin close, and rested their foreheads together, fighting the overpowering urge to bury his nose in the crook of Rin’s neck and breathe him in. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

He waited the agonizing long moments for Rin to shove him away, to growl that he wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —give in the way Haruka wanted to, that he’d live free or die trying. But it didn’t come; instead, all he caught was a sour, muttered, “…I really do hate you,” before Rin grabbed his head just beneath the ears, grip solid and unyielding, and crushed their lips together, ravaging like a rogue wave and dragging Haruka down beneath him. “I hate you… I hate you…” he mumbled in the gasping breaths between lips and tongues and teeth, and Haruka supposed this was a final desperate effort to avoid giving in completely, admitting defeat. 

“I’m beginning to have my doubts.”

Rin’s face was shadowed by the moon at his back, and this close it was impossible to make out features, but he could _feel_ Rin smile against his lips, and gods above and below, he’d _missed_ that—the teasing challenge, the silky smooth cocky confidence that beckoned Haruka to follow. A promise of a sum greater than the whole of their parts, of them being better together, happier and haler than alone. Rin kissed the side of his mouth, then tugged gently on his lower lip with teeth that could just as easily rip half his face off. “I could prove it,” he threatened, and this time any bite in his tone was wholly teasing, tempting. If he still had reservations about choosing this path, they were pale shadows quelled for the moment by inflamed lust. 

Rin shifted to the side, spreading his legs and arching his back, and a warm, solid length brushed against Haruka’s thigh, insistent and yearning. Clearly there would be no gentle wading for Rin; he was going to dive in head-first, and damn any risk of breaking his neck. Perhaps it was too much too soon; maybe they should take it slowly this time, relearn who they each really _were_ , without the interference of some ancient magic or biological impetus clouding their judgment. There were a dozen immediately obvious reasons to gently turn Rin down, and a dozen-dozen more that he might uncover with but a moment’s consideration, but Rin was not the only one between them seemingly driven at times by animal need, and all of those reasons were currently vying for space—and losing—with a greater primal part of his mind. 

They’d stupidly given in to urges and instinct before and fallen into bed together; what harm could come from doing it again? Certainly they wouldn’t hurt themselves any more than they were already aching—in every respect possible. He braced a hand between them to ease Rin away—if they were going to do this, it would be in a proper flea-ridden bed and not on the salt-grimed, moldy floor—but Rin, clearly unimpressed with the ginger way Haruka handled him, grabbed the extended forearm with a toothy grin and rocked back onto his heels, yanking Haruka upright with the momentum of the motion.

“ _Oww—!_ ” he hissed, jerking his arm from Rin’s grip and blinking away spots of pain flooding his vision as he cradled his arm to his chest. He stumbled, nearly crashing into the desk as he struggled to stay standing, and Rin’s hands were immediately there, cupping his shoulders, with a terrified _Haru?_ and _Shit—what’s wrong? What did I…?_ tumbling from his lips. If his arm hadn’t felt like he’d just dipped it in a vat of lye, he might have laughed; only moments prior, Rin had threatened to rip his arm off, and now he sounded truly frightened he might as well have done so. He held his arm out, making a fist to keep it from trembling, and angled it to catch the moonlight—which illuminated the four neat gashes Rin had graced him with earlier, oozing blood that seemed almost black in the low light and throbbing something fierce. 

This might need stitches; he’d have to wake Rei, who’d want to take a needle to him then and there, lest an infection set in, and he’d be none too gentle about it after having his beauty sleep interrupted. 

“I did this…?” Rin murmured, brows cinched in a mixture of worry and awe as he delicately turned Haruka’s arm over in his grip; did he really not recall? Perhaps the rage had blinded him.

“…I deserved it.” It wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t blame Rin, nor did he want Rin blaming himself. If you stuck your arm in a honey hive, you must expect to get stung; blaming the bees for reacting when provoked was pointless. He added, by way of reassurance, “It’s only a flesh wound; I’ll have Rei make a poultice.”

“…No.” Rin tightened his grip when Haruka tried to pull his arm away but made sure to avoid gripping too tightly and opening up more gashes. He traced the edges, which were starting to inflame and would likely hurt like a bitch come dawn, and massaged gently. “…Let me fix it.”

Haruka regarded him coolly. “…There’s a needle and thread I use to repair buttons in my desk drawer.”

Rin’s gaze narrowed, and he snapped a bit more harshly than was merited, “You know I don’t mean like that,” and that was when Haruka jerked his arm away properly, clutching it to his chest.

“No—” he started, just as Rin groused, “It’s just a sip!” and he shook his head firmly, pursing his lips. They’d had this conversation before, and Haruka was just as adamant about it now as he had been back then: he didn’t want to outlive his men. He didn’t want to wander this world forever, or what _felt_ like forever. He didn’t want to be young and beautiful well beyond the point when anyone could even remember his name, no matter how enticingly Rin framed the idea. Humans were meant to live short, exciting lives, chasing dreams—if never quite reaching them—and either dying in the pursuit or passing on old and frail in their beds. They were supposed to live out their fleeting time with friends, with family. That was what was right, and that was what Haruka would do, just as his parents, as his grandparents, as his father’s father’s father had done. 

Rin sighed, shoulders slumping, and his frown seemed carved into his face. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times before—I don’t want—”

“I know you _don’t want it_ ,” Rin ground out, and this time there was a hint of pain in it as he glanced off to the side, gazing out the window at nothing. “As you say: you’ve told me that a thousand times.” He sneered to himself, swallowing thickly. “And that’s fine; if I can’t be free now…maybe after you’re gone…” He shrugged, chuckling in a voice devoid of mirth. “What’s another twenty years? Maybe less, if I’m lucky.”

And that hurt, in a way Haruka couldn’t quite define, because why did he have to make it seem like Haruka was choosing everyone else over him? Maybe it didn’t make sense to someone as long-lived as a Siren, but he’d seen what clinging to life, fearing the warm embrace of death had done to other sailors. The docks in more ports than he liked to count had shops that paid fine coin for Siren blood and sold it to the desperate and vain, that they might stave off the inevitable for a few days, months, years longer. Rin wanted a companion for eternity; Haruka saw it as a life apart from everyone he ever cared about, ageless and frozen. Trapped.

Maybe Rin was right: maybe they would _both_ be free, then.

“It’s…not like that,” he tried to explain, fumbling his words. “I just—”

“Forget it—that’s not what I was offering anyway,” Rin huffed, waving him off and collecting himself. “I only offered enough to at least mend those gashes; I gave them to you, I’d like to see them taken away. And I’ll just mutilate you if you put a needle and thread in my hand, you know.”

True enough, it was difficult to manage stitches with the claws tipping Rin’s fingers, and if forced to choose between waking Rei and gritting his teeth through a painful needle session versus taking a tiny sip of freely offered blood that might at worst extend his life by a day or so, he supposed a day would not hurt, so long as they didn’t make a habit of it.

He closed his eyes, nodding his consent. “…Just enough to scab them over; I’m not a child.”

“Heavens forfend you take pains to ensure you don’t get gangrene,” Rin mumbled, grabbing him by the shoulders and roughly shoving him toward the lumpy mattress. Haruka settled on the edge, and Rin slipped down next to him, taking only a moment to run his fingers over the ticking with a nostalgic smile on his lips. “…You could stand to splurge on something down-filled instead of this uncomfortable hay.”

“I suppose, if I’m going to have a bedmate constantly complaining about it.”

“Not constantly,” Rin warned lightly, already setting boundaries, before allowing with a quirk of his lips, “…But often enough that I’ll definitely drive you crazy if you don’t resolve the issue the next time you make port.”

They were scheduled to make several stops on the major islands of the Keys in less than a fortnight. “We’ll have to give this one a proper send-off, then…”

Rin indulged him with a fond smile, then held his hand out, waiting. “First things first. If I’m going to be stuck with you for the next couple of decades, I want all your limbs intact.”

“Such a romantic.” He offered his arm, and Rin studied the gashes with a discerning eye.

“They’re not terribly deep… I only grazed you.”

“They still _hurt_.”

“Does your crew know you’re a whiny baby?” Before Haruka could make a snippy retort, Rin glanced around. “You don’t have a wine glass or tumbler in here, do you? And where did my dagger go…”

“A glass?” Rin slipped off the bed, padding over to the desk, where his whalebone knife was still firmly lodged in the left front leg. “For what? Are you thirsty?”

Rin rolled his eyes. “For the blood, you idiot. I know I said just a sip, but you’ll need a few mouthfuls unless you want it to scar.” Haruka mulled this idea over, and Rin quickly added, “And I _don’t_ want you to scar!”

“I’ve got plenty of scars already—you’ve seen them.”

“Sure, but…” He trailed off, biting his lip, and Haruka heard the unspoken _none that I gave you_. If only he knew.

Sighing, wondering if it was worth all the trouble, he raised his uninjured arm to gesture to the cabinet which held the spirits service—then thought better of it. The idea of guzzling down that thick, coppery slurry from a chilly wine glass turned his stomach, reminding him too keenly of the pathetic, blood-drunk degenerates selling their souls for the promise of but a few more blinks on this earth. He didn’t want to do what they did, to _be_ one of them, even simply to heal a scrape. If he was going to do this…it would not be so _cold_.

He beckoned Rin over, and after offering a bemused grin, one brow raised, Rin slowly sauntered back over with a swaying swing in his step and the tip of the whalebone dagger pricking his finger. “So? No glasses?”

When he drew within grabbing distance, Haruka gripped his hips tight and tugged forward, nearly bringing Rin toppling down on top of him—an accident prevented only by the knee Rin braced against the mattress. The whalebone knife narrowly missed carving a smile across Haruka’s throat, and Rin’s eyes flared wide and his cheeks paled. “That was—really fucking stupid of you—”

“No glasses.”

Rin looked like he wanted to continue the lecture, perhaps shake the dagger a few times in his face in threat, but the rage fled him quickly at the suggestive quirk to Haruka’s brow, and he settled slowly down across his lap, his half-hard length just shy of nudging Haruka’s own. “How do you then propose I share my blood with you…?”

His throat bobbed as he spoke, and Haruka imagined he could see the great vein pumping just beneath the surface of that smooth, pale skin—but then, that was a risky business, too easy to let the blade slip, and then Rin would be bleeding out over the floor. He was no vampyre of legend, and Rin was no docile cow whose teats he might suckle upon—but they could still make this mutually enjoyable, he suspected. He reached, slowly and carefully so as not to startle this time, and took Rin’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together and examining the fit. “If it’s all the same to you…I’d like to drink from the source.”

A wash of pink shame—or perhaps arousal, or both even—crept over Rin’s face, dark enough that it was visible even in the low cabin light, and his chest heaved as he sucked in a breath. “Haru…” The whalebone dagger dropped heavy onto the mattress, and Rin tugged his hand free of Haruka’s, bracing both palms along the line of Haruka’s jaw to cradle his head in his hands, staring as if in disbelief. It wasn’t a reaction he’d really been expecting—the arousal, yes; the wonder, no—but it was nice, all the same, seeing Rin so bald and open again. He missed him like this: a raw bundle of emotion he could neither hide nor dampen.

Haruka wrapped his fingers around the knobby hilt of the dagger, presenting it to Rin. He’d never raised a weapon to Rin, and he wasn’t about to start now, no matter the reasoning. Perhaps Rin understood this, or maybe he just didn’t trust Haruka to do a smart enough job of it (also a valid concern), for he took in a deep breath, and with a long, slow exhalation, he drew the keen edge along the pads of several fingers, opening red lines that began to welt with thick dark globules. 

They needed to work quickly; left unattended, the slits would close up, as Rin’s naturally accelerated healing did its duty. Gripping Rin’s wrist firmly in one hand, he angled the palm to keep the blood from dripping onto the sheets, swallowed thickly as a great _thrum_ rippled through the both of them, in time with Rin’s heart, and darted out his tongue—

“W-wait,” Rin called, soft but with a note of panic, and Haruka frowned as Rin tried to tug his arm free, albeit without much force behind the effort. “Wait, just…”

Had he changed his mind? Would he demand a glass, realizing that there was just something off-putting about having someone drawing blood from your body like a child at its mother’s breast? Or—and this thought he hated entertaining—had Rin _lied_ about the blood’s power, lied that it wouldn’t unnaturally lengthen his lifespan, experiencing a fit of conscience just before dooming Haruka to life everlasting? This idea turned his stomach, and he fought against shoving Rin’s arm away without proper cause. “What?”

Rin’s head dropped, shoulders slumped, and after a ragged breath, he looked up again, expression inscrutable. For someone who so often couldn’t help his feelings and emotions glowing through, lighting up his face, he was being remarkably restrained just now. “I just…before you do this…I want to make sure you know.” Oh. So there _had_ been a lie. Rin _had_ nearly let him drink in his doom— “This—drinking from the vein, directly like this, it’s…” He glanced away, and Haruka could see his cheeks pinking again as he tucked a strand of that seaweed-limp hair behind his ear. “The only ones who ever do it, freely at least, are…um…” He dithered, irritating in his hesitation, before finally blurting out, “Mated pairs.”

“Mated…” Haruka repeated dumbly, letting the information wash over him. Rin had never wanted to discuss the finer points of Siren biology and culture with him before, and he suspected now this lack of knowledge was about to come back and bite him fiercely. 

Rin waved his free hand, gesticulating for seemingly no reason other than to give himself something to do. “It’s part of the bonding ritual, I guess—I’ve only seen it a couple of times, relatives and all. I always thought it was gross…” He trailed off into memory, then recalled himself. “Anyway, I just…thought you ought to know. That it means something to me, doing this with you. More than just patching up a cut. And—” he hastened to add, “—it doesn’t have to mean anything like that to you, I get that it’s not the same for humans, but all the same… I still wanted you to know what it means…when I tell you I want to give this to you.” He locked eyes with Haruka again, having finally worked up the nerve after his speech, and he gave a little nod. Permission.

Because that was what this was—consent. This was something Rin’s people did with the one they wanted to be bound to for eternity, an emotional bond, or maybe even a magical one, as before, that twined two souls together. Even a ring on a finger seldom stopped a human from wandering, but Haruka suspected such was not the same with Sirens. So this was Rin’s roundabout confession that he was content to be trapped again, no longer ‘free’. If he ever really _had_ been free to begin with. It was capitulation—though he didn’t seem very angry about it, certainly wasn’t lashing out with fist and claw as when he’d woken Haruka earlier. Instead…he almost seemed sad, a kind of wistful melancholy, with peace and relief and resignation all vying for a seat at the forefront of his mind but only succeeding in tugging Rin in a dozen directions at once. 

This was probably supposed to be a happy occasion for Sirens, but here Rin was, still dogged by doubts that he could ever be content inside this cage, even with Haruka by his side. _It doesn’t have to mean anything like that to you,_ he’d offered, and if Rin could drag himself up from the depths and accept his limits, then surely Haruka could sacrifice something of his own as well, if only in feeble gesture. 

He leaned forward, gently pressing dry, chapped lips to Rin’s, and offered his arm, baring the rakes for Rin to see. “If it’s something usually done as a pair, then let’s do it as a pair.” His blood would do nothing for Rin—it wouldn’t heal wounds, it wouldn’t extend life, it wouldn’t imbue him with any of a thousand cures legend assigned Siren biomaterial, but you wouldn’t have known it, for the choked little gasp that wriggled from Rin’s throat as he closed his eyes and turned his face to nuzzle Haruka’s open palm before sliding his lips down to inhale the scent of the scrapes, still oozing life. He reminded Haruka so often of the sharks that liked to trawl their fishing hauls, like vultures of the ocean, and he wondered idly now if Rin had the same affinity for blood as his brethren. It seemed they were about to find out. 

Without pause to give Rin time enough to steer him from his course again, he wrapped his lips tightly around the fingers Rin had slit, giving a sharp suckle to clean the old blood from the pads before taking them down to the third knuckle. Rin responded with an almost imperceptible shudder, darting a tongue out reflexively and laving it over the rakes. It stung, the skin starting to inflame painfully, and Rin blew a warm breath over his chilled skin before planting kisses over the cuts. By the second pass, the pain had dulled, and Haruka turned his attentions back to Rin’s fingers.

He gripped the palm firmly, careful not to twist it at too awkward an angle, and pulled back far enough to scrape his teeth lightly over the pads to stimulate more blood. Another shudder vibrated down Rin’s wrist, and he tensed, wondering if Rin might jerk away in reflex, but instead, Rin just ran the blade of his tongue over Haruka’s cuts before pursing his lips into a kiss and suckling to draw more blood from the wounds. If Haruka was hurting him, Rin gave no signal beyond the odd little muffled moan or furrowing of his brow, his every effort focused on the distraction of cleaning the scratches he’d inflicted.

It felt odd now, no longer painful, and the heat and slick and _feeling_ of Rin’s tongue, lips, even those dangerous teeth so close to him, draining him of his life while giving him more, was starting to go to his hips. Haruka closed his eyes and took Rin’s fingers deep, as deep as they would go, and he imagined they weren’t fingers but something he’d missed nearly as much, oozing a bitter, life-giving liquid he’d yearned for nearly as fiercely. He was human, only human, and he’d missed Rin, achingly, body and soul. And now that his soul was on the mend, he would see his body satisfied as well. 

He wrapped the blade of his tongue around those long, nimble fingers, mindful of the claws tipping the ends, and lazily, languidly bobbed his head, throat relaxing on the downstroke, tight pressure on the up, kissing the tips or grazing his teeth featherlight along the underside just the way he knew Rin liked it. Rin’s blood tasted every bit as bitter and salty as his seed, and if he imagined just hard enough, he could see them twined about one another, an ouroboros of need and want and desperate desire to fill in all the gaps they’d created in their months apart. 

Rin shifted beside him on the bed, his sac drawn up tight and heavy beneath him as he lazily rutted against Haruka’s thigh, and he laid open-mouthed kisses across the rakes, his technique going sloppy as he began to lose himself to the combination of sensations in the moment: Haruka’s blood trickling down his throat and staining his pearl-white teeth the color of old rust; the slick pressure of Haruka’s lips pursed tight around his fingers, suckling on the tips like he bled ambrosia; the ragged, husky breaths filling the silence between them and heating the chill air of the cabin to hot-house temperatures. Rin was a creature of _feeling_ —emotional, physical, any which way there was to experience life, Rin thrived upon it. Watching him come undone was a treat in itself. 

Rin’s blood hummed through Haruka—and it felt, strangely, like it flowed through his own veins with each pump. It burned, a sweet, sharp pain, like Rin himself, and he imagined he could get drunk on Rin’s blood, finer and stronger than any spirit that had yet crossed his lips. It coiled warm and heavy in his belly, filling him with a familiar itch that wanted scratching, but he didn’t dare touch himself. Didn’t _want_ to; he just wanted _this_ , wanted Rin solid and comforting heaving against him, breathing him in and out, crawling through each other’s veins. This was so much more than consummation of a bond, and to sully the experience with a fumbling hand on himself seemed uncouth.

His cock was less inclined to heed the mood of the moment, though, caring little for the buzzing throb of Rin’s blood in his system or the tingling numbness where Rin had practically licked his arm raw, and with each slow roll of Rin’s hips against the meat of his thigh, it bobbed its excitement and poked its head up for attention. Haruka resolutely ignored it, entranced instead with the way Rin had lost all interest in lapping up Haruka’s blood, nuzzling needily and breathing _Haru, Haru_ against the flushed skin of his forearm.

And that was enough. Haruka gave a deep, strong suck on Rin’s fingertips, drawing as much blood as he could, then tugged away and cupped Rin’s jaw, gently angling him to press their lips together. Drops of blood trickling from the corners of his lips as he thrust a tongue inside to taste what he could of himself on Rin. Rin’s fingers scrabbled, clutching and gripping until they found purchase at Haruka’s neck, and he gasped in raw, plain gratitude with a smile of feral delight against Haruka’s lips. Their blood intermingled, lips and tongues and teeth coming together frenzied as sharks in chummed water, 

Everything was red, and everything was Rin—he could feel Rin’s heat, smell Rin’s scent, hear Rin’s voice breathing his name in tripping syllables. He could _taste_ the most fundamental elements of Rin on their tongues, and when he opened his eyes, all he saw was _Rin_ , flushed and begging and just this side of breaking down.

Time to push him over the edge. 

He broke the kiss for only a heartbeat, just long enough to lave a stripe of blood and saliva over two fingers, and Rin watched with half-lidded eyes, struck dumb by arousal and awe, as Haruka let his hand slip down between them, traced a circle around the ridge at the base of the crown of Rin’s cock, and then rolled down that aching, straining shaft to pinch the soft, thin skin of his sac. “Oh— _shit_ —” Rin warned, hips jerking, and he laid frantic, sucking kisses along the great vein throbbing just beneath the skin of Haruka’s neck. Bright red welts would linger there in the morning, irrefutable evidence that he’d made amends with their quarry at long last, and Haruka didn’t dislike that, so he arched his neck to invite further attentions and curled his fingers back around the shaft, pumping Rin in a staccato, demanding rhythm. 

No more gentle nips, no more lazy, lethargic tongue-twining kisses. He’d tasted blood, and it burned in his veins now, driving him to draw Rin into that same inferno, that they might not blaze alone. Rin met each of his strokes with a punching thrust of his own, blood and seed and spit mingled together to slick the way, and he whispered Haruka’s name into his ear in a breathy, mangled mantra that, as oil and fire, ignited on contact. 

Rin gasped as Haruka swiped a thumb over his cockhead, then he was shoving his hand down between them to blindly grope Haruka through the stiff, stained fabric of his trousers. So long denied attentions in the course of their fumbling, he nearly spilled right there, tensing with a warning gasp and yanking back at the final moment, expending every effort to restrain himself until he’d seen Rin meet his peak.

He curled his fingers, dragging blunt nails from root to tip and tweaking the crown as he sucked hard at the crook of Rin’s neck, laying down welts of his own that would stain that pale skin for hours to come. Maybe it was Rin’s blood rushing through his system, but he felt of a sudden far more at peace with his darker, id-driven desires just now, and he knew Rin would never begrudge him such liberties. Would in fact _rejoice_ in them—get off on them.

Which was exactly what happened. The twin sensations of sharp, sucking kisses at his neck and a firm grip about his cock drove Rin mercilessly forward, until he wrapped Haruka in a tight hug, fit to crack his spine, and snapped his hips forward with a spurting release as he choked on Haruka’s name, the syllables caught in his throat.

Haruka’s whole body shuddered as Rin painted white stripes across his breeches, and all that blood—his, Rin’s, both theirs—boiled in his veins, coiling around the base of his cock, and tugging him along on the wave Rin’s orgasm, dragging him down in the undertow of sensation. He spent himself with a great jolt, muffling his cry of release against Rin’s shoulder and squinting his eyes shut so tightly he saw stars. Rin still had he heel of his palm mashed against the crotch of his trousers, massaging him lazily through the fabric as they both gulped in air, struggling to calm their racing hearts.

Until he realized Rin wasn’t gasping for breath—he was overwrought, a wave of emotion crashing in bright, rainbow-shattered foam against Haruka and _weeping_ , apologizing in choked, juddering moans half-lost in his mumbled fit. “I lied—I _lied_ , Haru. I lied.” He tucked his head into the gentle curve of Haruka’s neck, soaking the flushed, lovebitten skin with bitter tears. “I don’t hate you—I love you. I love you.”

The line of tension across Haruka’s shoulders eased, and he gingerly brought his arms up around Rin, stroking his back like a mother soothing a child. “…I know.”

“I _love you_ , and that’s fucking terrifying, ‘cause I think—” He inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat. “I think maybe I’ll love you for the rest of my life. S-six months, and I felt like I was lost forever.” He pulled back, face red and eyes puffy and expression pitiful. “What’ll I do when it’s six years? Sixty? Six hundred?” He grimaced at the thought, lips curling in disgust. “I can’t live like that. I _can’t_. I can’t do that, Haru—and it _scares me_.” He slumped forward, pressing his forehead against Haruka’s collarbone and inhaling deep in a desperate attempt to calm himself. “You can’t leave me, Haru. Please.” The plea came out a throaty, ragged whisper. “Please, don’t leave me here alone. Don’t die without me.”

When Rin had left, after the contract had been fulfilled—he’d never felt sad. Not once. He’d felt most every other emotion there was to feel—relief, anger, determination, and a thousand others besides—but not _sad_. Until now.

Because seeing Rin shatter in his arms, begging for what he couldn’t have, terrified beyond reason, and having no idea how to soothe his fears—it broke the heart. “You’ll…” he started, reassurances ready on his lips, then trailed off, because no, Rin _wouldn’t_ be fine, and there was no sense giving him false hope. _You’ll survive_ seemed too pithy, though, and false promises that he’d reconsider Rin’s offer in time would only pour salt on the wound. Instead, he settled for sharing the pain: “…I don’t want to—but nor do I want to live forever. I don’t want to see the world pass me by, I’d go mad.” Humans weren’t made to live beyond their years, and one way or another, there would be a hefty price to pay for any that attempted to do so.

Rin pulled back, watery eyes locking with his own, and he licked trembling lips. “Just—give me a little extra time? Only a little—then I’ll be human with you, when you’re ready.” Haruka frowned, not following his request, and Rin redoubled his efforts. “There’s _so_ much I want to share with you—so many sights I want you to see, ones you’ve never seen before, and a human life is far too brief to experience it all. So, just…” He splayed his fingers, palms open, across Haruka’s chest, then slid them up and over his collarbone to drape arms over his shoulders. “Be young with me, for a while…and then when you’re ready, when you’re done…” He closed his eyes and took a breath. “…I’ll go and be old with you.”

Still he was speaking in riddles, and he felt a rising tide of irritation pooling in his belly. “Rin…I don’t…” He shook his head. “Be old with me?”

Rin managed a feeble, wry smile, devoid of any remote joy, and he gestured to himself. “Every moment I spend in this form, I age…irreversibly. We aren’t immortal—just long-lived. But like this, here with you…I’m human for a little while. So when you’re done, when you’re tired…I’ll stay like this with you. Until it’s over.” He flexed his arms, drawing Haruka forward into another bone-crushing hug that stole the air from his lungs. “This way we never have to be alone.”

A compromise. A plea for Haruka to make the same concession, the same sacrifice Rin had: to accept a cage willingly and learn to live within bounds he wasn’t entirely content with but that he _had_ to accept for his own sanity and his partner’s. 

He wondered idly what would happen if he said _No_. Would Rin try to leave again? Heartsore, would he start the clock winding down on his years now and refuse to return to the waves outright? Could Haruka _let him_ do that, let a wild, beautiful creature like this wound himself so that no one else could hurt him first?

How long was _a little extra time_? A century? Two? Could he stand that? Certainly he’d see Makoto die—wrinkled and decrepit if he was lucky, far too young and far too quickly if he wasn’t—and the others wouldn’t be far behind. But then, a typhoon could see them all sent to the sea floor on the morrow; humanity or lack thereof didn’t dictate the length of a life, necessarily. It was how you spent the time you were granted, however long or short it might be.

He didn’t want to live forever…and Rin wasn’t asking him too. He just didn’t want to be alone, and Haruka—well, he wasn’t enamored of the idea either. But maybe this was just the first step down a slippery slope; maybe, as Rin had feared, this was the last thing he should be doing, giving in to temptation.

Maybe he’d never know what the right choice was—so he’d choose the one that made him _feel_ free, because he freely chose it. 

He slowly brought his arms up around Rin’s back, leaning into him and relaxing as the weight of the decision slipped from his shoulders and crumbled around them. “All right. Show me a sight I’ve never seen before.” He would teach Rin how to love his cage, and Rin would show him the value of _time_ , and it wouldn’t just be a kind of freedom, but the _best_ kind, because it was theirs and theirs alone.


End file.
